


In Loco Parentis

by FluffWitch



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Adoption, Dib and Gaz are babies, Found Family, Gen, Zim is an adult, Zim's PAK is defective and that means it's a field day for me, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffWitch/pseuds/FluffWitch
Summary: Zim's PAK is defective, that's nothing new.Or in which Zim is sent to space in hopes he dies, lands on Earth, and his defective PAK can't quite block long forgotten instincts in his species.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Zim & Dib & Gaz
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've found this story in my old laptop, written in...2016? Yea.  
> Also posted in Fanfiction.net

Zim’s PAK is defective.

He doesn’t know, or if he does, he’s good at denying it. His PAK’s memory chips and motor functions are intact, allowing him to retain his training in the academy. He’s still written off as a food drone, something he ignores in its entirely, unknowingly playing make-believe into taking his role as an Invader.

Physically, he’s fine, adept for combat. Mentally, it’s another story. 

The PAK is unstable, malfunctioning. While the bursts of egomania are quite normal, something written onto him, the personality chip is much too incomplete to belong to an Invader. Too much recklessness, too much thinking outside the box and a touch of feeble insanity.

Maybe, most of all, the emotion block is damaged, his feelings are too genuine, his anger too explosive, his mania too dangerous.

He doesn’t know, of course, he doesn’t. Or else he wouldn’t have been “sent” to Earth in hopes he died on the way, floating across the universe as nothing but a carcass. The Control Brain would have had him erased, his PAK destroyed, unfit for a future Irken.

Instead, Zim arrives on Earth. The first emotion he feels upon touching land in the nowhere planned is relief.

* * *

The disguise is poor, and would fool no one with an actual brain, but it makes do for the time being. GIR is sent scouting ahead to have an idea of what the surrounding territory is like, and in the meantime, Zim prepares a base for his stay and conquest.

It’s a suburban area, with human families in the residenses, completely clueless of the Alien just ouside their windows, of the extra house that doesn’t looks familiar at all, standing tall between two buildings as if it was always there.

“Mastah! Mastah you have to come quick!!” GIR all but screeches, cyan eyes wide and smile big. “I found babies!!”

“GIR! This is not the time, you useless--”

But the robot doesn’t listens, something Zim will know will happen quite often, and instead, grabs him and all but flies towards the city, away from the base.

They stop by an alleyway, murky and dark. Zim’s antennae can hear the echo of distressed voices and faint whimpers. There’s a scent of cooper in the air, and with further inspection he discovers a human lying in a pool of red. It takes him a second, and his eyes look bored when he sees the corpse of a human male.

There’s a shierk, and a sharp cry much, much higher than anything he had heard before, wails that sounds too desperate and afraid.

His eyes widen under the fake lenses, PAK sparkling once before metallic, spider-like limbs sprout from it. He doesn’ts know, his failling emotion block pulls on some long forgotten instict Irkens had all but sealed almost milenia ago.

Mixed with those pitiful cries, suddendly, there’s an otherwordly snarl.

* * *

Zim took a glance at the human smeets, unease coming from him in waves as he stared at the snivelling children. The oldest smeet was crying and hiccuping, clutching his younger packmate to his tiny body. The bundle was crying in earnest, scared and not understanding what was going on.

The Irken invader stilled, he hadn’t meant to do it. To...To  _ help _ a pair of earthling smeets. It was on impulse, something burning at his squeedily spooch that couldn’t had been bloodlust or even euphoria at seeing the enemy race he was supposed to conquer kill each other. As soon as the smeets’s cries reached his antennae he had moved, spitting and hissing like a PAKless beast as he pounced on the human filth, coating the little street with more red coming from this earth-filth than the other two humans it had killed minutes ago.

GIR had taken him to a murder scene, two parents, maybe their offsprings if he hadn’t appeared. Instead, the murdered laid a bit further away, organs spilled on the floor, face frozen in terror.

Zim cursed himself, smacking his own head at his stupidity. He should have just walked away as he had planned to in the first place, gathering more information about such primitive planet instead of foolishly trying to see human carnage. He was stuck in something he couldn’t quite leave alone for whatever reason.

He looked at the humans, tinier than even himself and messier than anything he had seen before. They were young, much too young to be even called proper smeets. Hatchlings more like, even Irken standards would have decided them too young for the academy.

“Babies! I like babies!”

The annoying, permanently cheerful voice of his minion hurt his antennae, but luckily it shut up the human hatchlings out of pure surprise and shock. The oldest looked wary, but somehow...comforted, by the mere presence of the robot, probably nothing more than a new, odd shiny toy in his naive mind while the youngest hatchling, still covered in some sort of cloth and with tears and snot covering its face stared at the bright, cyan eyes of Gir, tiny attention span shifting rapidly thanks to the bouncing spasms of the SIR unit.

“Aw, they look sooo sad… Do they want tacos? I got tacos!”

“Gir! Don’t touch the disgusting human hatchlings!”

The Irken felt like pulling his antennae when his SIR unit approached the spellbound children, giggling madly while his cyan lights blinked repeatedly. 

The little boy sniffled once again, not truly understanding what was going on anymore. His mom and dad were taking a nap and weren’t waking up, the bad man was sleeping too, and a lot of the icky red stuff was staining the floor. His little sister was fussy and the strange little man was screaming.

The toy, though, the shiny toy was nice, and pretty and new. It could talk! Dib was still learning to talk, like the little robot toy who was giggling and walking towards them. Confused, the child gently (Like his mommy had told him) held his little sister with one arm and extended the other, slowly and hesitantly poking the robot’s head when it came closer. 

Dib giggled, it was sticky.

“Aww, he likes me!” The insane robot cooed, scrunching his face up in bliss before peering down at the little bundle cradled between the boy’s little arms. “Oooh, a baby! A  _ baby _ baby! Aww, she’s soooo cute.”

Zim growled, staring at his boots for a few seconds before looking up. The same, disgusting feeling at the bottom of his squeedily spooch flared to life for a second, burning feebly before calming down. He stared as Gir cooed at the human young, the earthlings staring at the SIR unit in wonder, for a minute, blissfully unaware of the fate of their caregivers, lying in a puddle of their own blood just a couple of feet away.

“Mastah! Mastah, we gotta keep the babies!” The robot screeched, the baby on her brother’s arms whimpered at the loud sound, no longer finding the toy entertaining. “We can’t leave them here! Hobos and squirrels are gonna eat them!”

“GIR! Cease your delusions this instant!” Zim screeched back, only to be interrupted by distressed wail of a baby. The Irken groaned in his hands, half annoyed and half desperate for many reasons, fighting back the sudden...feeling...that sparked within his PAK.

“I can’t believe I’m even thinking about this, my Tallest…” He mumbled, and almost jumped right out of his PAK when a tiny hand tugged at his uniform. Looking down, Zim was surprised to find the human young looking at him with wide, shining eyes. The baby crying softly in discomfort. Both hatchlings were far too close for comfort, and Zim noticed how the young male’s feet were stained with its progenitor’s still warm blood.

“W-What?” The alien asked, painfully aware of the current situation. Three dead humans, two of them being these hatchlings’ caretakers, and said kids being barely old enough to be called smeets, alone in a dirty city and near the murder scene.

He wouldn’t have cared, never. Not even with Irken smeets he would have had these...these doubts. Why was it bothering him so much?

The child stares at him with big, unblinking eyes, his sibling fussing in his hold before he motions the little bundle forwards to him. Zim stares, takes the little bundle from the child’s hands as his feet wobble and his mouth babbles, not quite yet forming full sentences. The hatchlings stick to him like glue.

Zim felt the strong urge to take a step back, turn around and leave. His mission was the priority, he couldn’t get distracted just because of hatchlings, out of all things. Yet his legs felt heavy and rooted to the spot, his antennae wiggling slightly in discomform for some odd reason as he just stared at the pair of packmates looking up at him, not understanding what had happened to them or the situation they were in.

Something pricked at his skin, physically, the sensation of acid on his body made the Irken hiss, inwardly startling the small child holding his fussy sibling. Rain, it was going to rain. The earth water was like torture on his skin.

GIR stares at him, unaware of the conflict he feels. “Babies hafta stay out of the rain!!” It nearly screeched. Zim hissed again, fumbled with the hatchlings and ignoring the uncomfortable warmth of the male’s tiny body snuggling closer to him, probably just a reaction his cold little body couldn’t help. His annoyance towards the rain and his own pain taking the front.

“Insufferable earth water!” The alien hissed, wasting no time in seeking shelter back in his base, GIR happily at his heel before ordering it to take them back.

The tiny human and his packmate shivered the whole way, and Zim’s insides turned to shapeless mush in nervousness as they left the grimsly murder scene behind. They’re too tiny to understand, too tiny to remember, it’s both a blessing and a curse.


	2. To soothe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing that people actually liked this story, I will try to continue it. Thank you for your comments 3
> 
> Seeing this is a concept that hasn't been done before (I think?) I will try to update it whenever possible until an ending is reached. I think I have an inkling on how this story will end, but in between start and ending, everything is up in the air.. So, this story will be updated whenever I get inspired for an idea.
> 
> There might be time skips, I'm not sure.
> 
> If you would like to see something implemented in the story, feel free to comment your idea. However, I will not take romance for this story.
> 
> Thank you

Abandoning the hatchlings, Zim decides in exasperation, is impossible.

Rain pours against his base's windows and the alien hisses at it as if it were a mortal enemy. His skin burns from the faint traces of toxic water and almost sizzles faintly, with an aggravated growl Zim discovers the first thing that can massively hurt him in this planet.

The hatchlings are asleep, so it's quiet, and Zim decides to take the chance to take a quick look at them out of wary curiosity. A male and a female, both infantile but the male is slightly older than his packmate, tiny limbs chubby and clumsy and body feeling warm to the touch. The shivering stopped, he guesses, being out of the rain helps. It seems they share a dislike for the toxic earth water.

Zim huffs, takes a step back from where the siblings sleep, and heads down to the lab not before issuing Gir a warning of 'not eating the humans' in his absence. The SIR unit's eyes flashed red, saluted, and went back to its usual cyan coloring.

He can't leave the hatchling just yet, because that means going out in the rain, and he would rather not expose his skin to something that could burn right through bone with just a few drops.

* * *

"May I ask why you've decided to kidnap human young?"

"SILENCE! This was only a misunderstanding. The human hatchlings will be out of Zim's base once acid stops pouring from above."

The computer's voice is monotonous and bored, and Zim at least can ignore it as he checks on his lab. His technology is something he's quite proud of, his weapon arsenal something to boast off to any Irken willing to listen. As he sees everything is in order, he notices the faint, red colored footprints staining the sterile white tiles.

"Eh?"

"Master, you are trailing blood."

"Oh. CLEAN THIS UP THEN!"

The machine has the audacity to sigh, as if it were a great demand, and Zim squints at the bodily liquids he didn't know were still sticking to him. The lower part of his uniform is a bloodied mess, he hadn't noticed before.

It's another grim reminder of what happened, and of the pair of human hatchlings currently resting on the top floor. In the laboratory's eerie silence, the alien quietly thinks of his actions, not finding a single valid reason for having done what he did in that alleyway.

"Hm, probably Zim just needed to relieve pent up stress from his travel to this husk of a planet." He mutters quietly, but deep down he knows that's a lie.

How exactly, or why, he is incapable of understanding yet.

His doubts aside for the time being, Zim decides to contact the Tallests, surely, they would want to know of their top Invader making it to Earth and successfully getting a base to work in enemy territory. But the lines go dead within seconds, the screens never even managing to light up. The alien blinks, growls in exasperation and releases a forced sigh.

"USELESS PLANET! Computer! Fix the base's signals so I can contact the Armada. This planet is so primitive it can't even anchor galactic communication properly!"

It's not a big deal, he tells himself. It's not the first time an Invader has reached a planet that hasn't been developed enough for such lengths of communications. For the time being, Zim is on his own.

* * *

When Zim emerges from this laboratory, a few hours later, it's thanks to the wails of the humans that were asleep on the couch.

He had heard it, somehow, all the way below to the armory, and Zim had all but felt something squeezing his squeedily spooch as those cries reached his antennae, just like back in that alley. It took him less than a minute to make his way up to the human-like base he had.

Sensing no imminent danger, he can only approach the humans with apprehension and confusion. The oldest male was awake, sniffling and trying to calm his sibling, the young female waiting and crying, her face scrunched up and blotchy, tiny fists at her sides.

"Stop-" Zim begins, but his voice is lost in the wails and sniffles. The male siblings stares at him with wide, tearful eyes, not quite moving away, not quite reaching out either. "Cease that noise this instant!"

The baby's cries got louder, her tiny legs kicking the blanket that had been wrapped around her, obviously distressed by something. Her sibling's lip trembles and his eyes full of tears in an instant. Amid the distress, Zim panics; humans cried water and he had half a mind to step away from the acid like substance. However, he does not.

Somewhere, buried away for centuries under the militia's harsh endorsement, under the loyalty programmed in every Irken's DNA, something sparkles to life for half a second. The emotion block is unable to stop it, and before Zim's even aware of it he does something no Irken has done in recent history.

The sound is throaty and loud, coming from the very back of his throat and resonating slightly in the not-so-normal living room. He unconsciously repeats the action once more as the children's cries turn to pitiful whimpers and quiet sniffles, looking calmer than moments ago at last.

"Mastah!" Gir interrupts the uncomfortable quiet atmosphere, and for once Zim is thankful of his minion's squeaky voice. "You sounded like a kitty cat! Did you ate a kitty? I like kittens!"

"Zim wouldn't dare taste any of this planet's filthy fauna!" He protested, and the humans' whimpers returned once more, making Zim flinch slightly. "I- Gir! You will not tell anyone of what you saw or heard."

"Aww, but-"

"It's an order!"

The SIR's eyes flash red for a moment, and its enough for Zim to feel slightly at easy for a faint second. "Look what I got for the babies!"

He realizes, since Gir entered the room, he is soaking wet from head to toe, bags on each hands filled to the brim with things he had no idea what they were. "What did you bring to Zim's base? Intel?"

"Nope!" The SIR giggles madly, skipping towards the couch and to the still sniffling children. "I BOUGHT PRESENTS!"

The female cries again at the loud sound, and Zim's head turns sharply enough to crack, staring at the robot and hissing. "SILENCE!"

Gir smiles, and dumps the bag's contents onto the floor. He can recognize clothing, small even for him, things that resembled the planet's fauna, plastic utensils. Zim stares at it all, his SIR unit probably having stolen these from neighboring homes or stores while he was in his lab.

"These are for the babies!" The robot says happily, immediately going for the smallest human and, surprisingly gently, plopping himself at her side, in between both siblings. They don't seem to mind too much, and it's not long before they fall back asleep again, holding onto stolen plush toys.

Zim growls in exasperation, rainy night still going mercilessly outside and hindering his progress on intel gathering. For now, he orders Gir to keep and eye on the hatchlings, not to let them wander, not to accidentally kill them either.

As he returns to his lab, for the moment, the ordeal is forgotten. Gathering data via his computer is good enough as a next step for the conquest of Earth, to blend in with the humans until the moment to strike arrives, or until communications outside the planet are viable for him.

He doesn't care for humans, much less smeets or hatchlings. The fact that Irkens haven't purred in centuries, something done before the species was forced to use PAKs to survive, is lost on him.


	3. Cues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMmm so this is taking longer than what I thought, but I'm quite okay with that.
> 
> The following chapters will be a bit more fast paced :> Writing Zim is fun, but I'm trying to get a liiiiittle bit more into the character. The story will already make him a bit ooc but I want to still be able to present the usual maniac, gremlin-like Zim we all know and love.
> 
> Thanks for reading my guys! Heart emoji to all of you.

When the hatchlings wake up, again, they make their immediate displeasure known.

Loudly.

Their cries grate on Zim’s antennae and his heart almost leaps to his throat in a fight or flight reflex he can’t quite explain, their noises ringing into his head and a very unpleasant odor threatening him to spill the few snacks his squeedily spooch could keep the night before.

“WHAT! WHAT IS IT!? WHAT DO YOU CRY FOR!?” The alien screeched back, making the situation worse as the loud little hatchlings screamed their heads off at the loud voice, tears and snot covering their faces. “COMPUTER! MAKE THEM STOP!”

The AI does not help, a monotone voice drowning on among the ruckus. “I have no data on human young. What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know! Download some! I COMMAND YOU!” Zim yells again, voice loud enough to reverberate the windows amid the chaotic ruckus. Pulling on his antennae, the Irken hisses through clenched, zip-like teeth, noise and odor unbearable.

He has to do something, or he will go crazy before he has any inkling on what to do in this miserable husk of a rock.

“Cease that noise!” He yells again, but his shouting does nothing. Something clenches at him from the inside out, his temper flaring for a hot, dangerous second before his throat closes up at the next scream, and instead, groans in frustration and maybe slight panic. “Just PLEASE stop crying!”

They don’t, of course they don’t. “I should throw you out of my base.” He mutters, but the thought is firmly pushed away for one reason or another. Not because the thought feels wrong, oh no, of course not! The rain would most likely melt his skin if he tried to step outside, and leaving a couple of hatchlings out without a parental unit would raise a few eyebrows. Even on Irk, a smeet on its own being so young would baffle an adult Irken no matter the rank.

It’s not because his squeedily spooch churns uncomfortably at the thought of leaving them alone. He’s an invader, not a caretaker.

“Information on biology of human young downloaded.”

“Thank the Tallests! What took you so long?!” Zim explodes, yelling at the ceiling. “Tell Zim what have you found!”

The computer dares sigh, if it had eyes, it would be rolling them. “Human young are born live from a biological female after an incubation period of nine human months, coming from the fusion between male sperm and a female egg through sexual reproduction.”

“Live birth? Sexual reproduction? Disgusting and archaic.” Zim mutters, the hatchling’s cries are lost on him for half a second. The thought of sexual reproduction and birth is odd when your species reproduce asexually thanks to clonation. “Continue!”

“A hatchling is commonly referred to ‘Baby’ in human tongue, smeet being the equivalent for ‘toddler’--”

“ZIM DOES NOT CARES ABOUT SUCH TRIVIA! Why are the hatchlings crying and how do I make it stop?!”

“Babies require around 24 hours care, including feeding, cleansing, clothing and stimuli. Crying is a response to stressors when one of such needs is lacking.”

“Lacking?” Zim mutters, antennae perked up in surprise. “They are crying because they’re lacking comfort? Pathetic!” It does not stop him from getting close to the crying humans in thin-veiled worry.

They’re disgusting, covered in their own tears and snot, an odor making itself present and clinging to them in a way that made Zim gag slightly. The smaller hatchling has her eyes tightly shut, tears pouring from them, mouth wide while voicing her displeasure. The older hatchling is in pretty much the same state, but his big eyes open through the tears and stare at Zim pleadingly.

In a gesture Zim can’t recognize, the hatchling reaches his tiny, plump little arms towards him, hands outstretched and grabbing.

The alien tilts its head, confused. “What is he doing?”

“Behavioral cues.” The computer’s monotonous voice pipes in. “The hatchling want to be picked up.”

“Will he stop crying if..Zim picks him up?”

“See for yourself.”

Zim groans, hesitant to approach any closer. Gathering all his Irken courage, the alien picks up the baby from under its armpits. The hatchling cries still, his hands making opening and closing motions. “Like this?”

“Correct.”

“It’s not working!” Zim almost wails, the sight is disturbing and the smell even worse up close. “Stop! Stop crying this instant! Are human hatchlings weaponized?!” The question is left unanswered, and the havoc of noise is made worse as Gir, in the middle of his mania, crashes through the wall and into the kitchen. The wall is repaired in seconds by the AI, and the sounds scare the crying babies even more. “GIR!”

“Hi mastah!” The SIR cries out, smiling dumbly as it approaches, discarding his small, wer green costume in the process. “Aww, the babies are crying! What’s wrong?”

“They want...stimuli, I think. AND IT’S NOT WORKING!”

“Oooh lookie! He wants to be held! Can I hold him?!”

“NO!” Zim hisses, teeth gritted and eyes glowing. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his SIR..in this particular case. But his patience is running thin with all the screaming. “And do not pick up the female hatchling either! I just need to know what they want to shut up!”

“Aww..” Gir somehow manages a sad expression, coupled with little bits of water at the corner of his eyes, somehow. The SIR’s sadness is forgotten in less than a second. “Mastah! The baby wants to be closer!”

“Closer? No-- GIR?!” 

The little robot, giggling hysterically, pushes Zim’s own arms towards himself. The crying infant's head is cradled between the alien’s neck and shoulder as it cries. Part of Zim prepares for the sting of pain he ought to feel with the tears that slipped on his neck and shoulder blade, but surprisingly no such pain comes, no burning sensation either. His wonder changes to shock when a pair of tiny little hands clutches his uniform.

The hatchling still cries, of course, but his shaking is reduced, hiccups slightly less prominent. The hold is awkward at best, and Zim doesn’t know what to do with himself other than hold the small human to him as Gir, somehow, positioned his arms to a more proper holding stance.

How does his SIR know this, he will ask later. “He’s still crying. And smells, they both smell bad.” 

“Smells like rotten meatloaf!” Gir giggles loudly. “You gotta change the diapers!”

“..Diapers?”

* * *

Zim decides right then, humans are completely, utterly disgusting.

They produce  _ waste _ , hatchlings can’t take care of their own  _ waste _ and thus, he had to do it. Emptying his squeedily spooch at least twice in the process, the thought of ordering his computer to do it didn’t even cross his mind in the middle of the frenzied fight for silence. Gir giggled maniacally during the entire process, the stolen goods he got yesterday serving their purpose.

If the Tallests saw him, if they saw what he did, he would activate his self-destruct protocol immediately.

And food, of course, they needed food. They needed food to produce waste. They look a bit less miserable, but fat tears roll down their cheeks still.

“Human young at such an age are unable to ingest solids.” The base’s AI supplies after a half mumbled query. “They lack teeth entirely. A supplement of milk and/or mushed foodstuff is required for their nutrition.”

“Just.. just let Gir handle it.” Zim mutters, suddenly feeling exhausted. He’s not a caretaker, he’s a soldier. An Irken invader! “Drop the data to Gir and let him feed the disgusting worm children, if this... _ rain _ stops, kick them out.” After a few seconds, he asks. “Why did they ask Zim for comfort?”

“What?”

“DON’T MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN!” Zim screams, pointing an accusing finger upwards. “Do NOT assume the mighty Zim has forgotten his mission! The hatchlings and I are enemies on this planet! So WHY would they ask for comfort from Zim?!”

“I don’t know.” The AI’s uninterested voice replies, Zim’s antennae flattens on top of his skull. “The same reason why you brought them with you?”

The silence in the following seconds is deafening, as Zim’s arm falls back down, his bug-like eyes narrowed in silent contemplation.

“..Babies don’t hold the same brain capacity as human adults do.” The AI breaks the silence, Zim’s attention on it. “According to data, all they want to do in these stages are the basic needs such as eating and sleeping. They will latch onto anyone providing nurturing. Especially the younger female. It is likely they can’t tell the difference between an Irken and a human.”

“HA! Obviously the hatchlings are defective! The almighty Zim does not nurture.”

“Whatever you say.” The AI interrupts, they both know the security footage of the base, where Zim holds each hatchling in turn as he provides the best an Irken could do to comfort another, as he takes care of their waste, as Gir feeds them, the more sane the SIR unit has been since activation. 

It will be deleted in the future, of course, but it existed.

Zim growls, clicks his tongue and stomps away from the computer screen. “Work on establishing communications! I will make something to stop this CURSED EARTH WATER from falling from the sky and burning the almighty Zim!” The alien snarls, and much, much quieter than what he used to, mumbles. “Zim is an invader, I have no time for this.”

The Tallests will want a report from their top invader, after all. 


End file.
